Whoever Saves One Life
by HedgieX
Summary: A year ago, something happened by the pond. Since then, Janet has sat on the bath side and cried into a flannel each morning, and Rachel has replayed Gill's last moments over and over again. The two women haven't talked since Christmas, but Janet knows her friendship with Rachel can't be thrown away; without each other, they won't begin to heal. One-shot turned two-shot. For Amy.
1. Chapter 1

Whoever Saves One Life

_For Amy_

Janet sat on the edge of the bath and allowed herself a few minutes of sobbing into a flannel. It was something she did every morning as she dressed herself, a sort of routine she'd fallen into.

As she lay in bed each night reading, she could hear Adrian's grief through the bathroom door, and there had been so many times over the past year she had longed to run to his side and fling her arms around him.

They could grieve together, she'd thought. It was absurd that they tried to hide from one another when they were both suffering. She came to realise, over the year, that their marriage was over; it was a marriage of convenience now, a marriage of 'we can't leave each other because we've already lost enough'.

"I hope you like it," he'd said flatly two weeks ago, giving her a necklace.

It was beautiful, shaped like a little footprint. She'd reach up a hand and touch it sometimes, and it reminded her not only that she was alive, but that she was now fifty years old, and nobody in the world had celebrated her birthday.

She dried herself, curled her hair and went over to the phone. She sat there looking at it for a long moment, counting to thirty to steady herself, going over and over the fact that sometimes, you couldn't choose the easy option, but the one that made you a good person, and the one that would help you to heal the most in the long run.

She dialled the number. It was still engrained inside of her.

"Hello?"

"Hello," Janet said, and wanted to cry again.

"Who– is that _you_?"

"Yeah. Can we talk?"

XxXxX

Rachel knew that she'd made a lot of mistakes in her life.

She wrapped her hands around her hot chocolate now, her eyes on the door of the café, her mind drifting about from place to place.

It had been a year now since she'd spoken to Janet, and this year had been the worst of her life.

Janet and Rachel had been so close. They'd both struggled with things in the past – losing a son, losing a mother – but they'd been strong, and they'd come out stronger. They shared something that perhaps not all police officers had, a passion for right and wrong and an urge to 'put the bad guys away'.

"Hello," Janet said quietly from the doorway.

Whatever Rachel had being going to say, 'hello', or 'you look well', or 'I'm so, so sorry' got lost somewhere inside of her when she saw her former best friend.

She stood up and hugged Janet.

"Hey, it's okay," Janet rocked her a little bit, like you might rock a baby to soothe them, letting Rachel bury her head, "It's okay."

"How–" Rachel began eventually, once Janet had led her back over to the table and ordered them a bowl of tomato soup each, "How's Elise?"

"Doing well. Getting stronger by the day."

"That's good."

"They both miss you, her and Taisie. They made cupcakes the other day, and Taisie said something about the time you'd taught them how to make the icing swirly."

Rachel smiled, and it turned into another sob.

Janet reached across the table and laid her fingers a couple of centimetres from Rachel's, "How's everyone at work?"

"Normal. Julie's a slave driver sometimes, but she's–" she shook her head, letting something unsaid lie between them, "She's a good boss."

It had been Christmas Eve, just turning dusky when they'd come out of the church carol service. Taisie and Elise had been singing in the choir, and Janet dragged Rachel and Gill along too.

Maybe 'dragged' was the wrong word, for Rachel had enjoyed it, and even Godzilla (Rachel had forgotten how they'd called her that until she'd seen Janet) had been smiling as they'd joined in with the actions to the _Twelve Days of Christmas_.

Taisie and Elise had made snow angels. Rachel had made a snowball and tossed it at Taisie, and she'd squealed and run to a patch of deeper snow, because, as Janet had put it once, 'they both _adore_ you'.

Rachel adored them too; she wished she'd said that more.

"And how are you?" Janet asked, "Mrs Sherlock?"

"Not bad. How about you?"

"Better now you're here."

XxXxX

It had all happened so fast, as these things did. When Rachel had looked again, Janet was on her knees in the snow, screaming for her daughter.

The ice over the pond had splintered into a tiny million pieces in the centre, like something from a movie, and Elise had plummeted through, and in the darkness Rachel could see the bubbles on the surface of the water.

Rachel could remember the way her hands had shaken as she'd called the emergency services. She hadn't known where she was for a moment.

Gill had brushed the younger officer's arm with cold fingers, but her voice was warmer than it had ever been. "She needs you now, Rachel."

Janet had been lying by the pond, clawing at the ice. Everything she'd ever been taught about being calm, being practical, had disintegrated. Rachel had taken Taisie by the wrist and held her to her chest, whispering 'it'll be okay' over and over again, under she could've believed it herself, if it hadn't been for Janet's crying.

Whenever Rachel thought back to that evening, the clearest thing about it – and the thing that still frequented her nightmares – was the crying.

"Ring Adrian," Gill was saying, "He needs to be at the hospital."

What followed had been the most difficult conversation of Rachel's life.

After Rachel had promised Adrian they'd do everything they could, and taken Taisie inside to sit with the vicar, she came back out to the side of the pond. Janet's upper body was on the ice, her legs still in the snow. She was edging her way forwards, ignoring Gill's pleas (Gill pleading; the second most haunting memory).

"Jan," Rachel had said, "The fire brigade will be here in a few minutes. You can't do anything else. You need to stay safe so you'll be here when they get her out; she'll need you then, won't she? You can't–"

"No." Janet's voice had been broken, like the ice. "Gill, she's my baby."

"I know she is. I know."

"_Do something_."

"I can't do anything. Rachel's right. Just a few more minutes."

"She's there," Janet gestured frantically, and Rachel could see the ice begin to splinter underneath her best friend. "She's just there. We can get her."

"Janet, you need to trust me on this," Gill continued, "How long have we known each other? Tell me, how many years?"

"Elise," she sobbed.

"Twenty years. Have I ever let you down?"

"Then get my daughter out of there."

Gill had taken off her heels. She was smaller without them, and her feet were half-buried in the snow. She took off her coat and handed it to Rachel.

"Please, Gill," Janet screamed, but it came out as a whisper.

"Come off the ice."

Janet had slithered backwards and sat on her haunches at the edge of the pond, crying silently. Rachel had known her best friend couldn't swim. She had known how incredibly helpless she must have felt, unable to get to her daughter, someone that was her flesh and blood, someone she loved more than anything.

"Don't do this," Rachel had found herself saying.

Gill had looked at her, and Rachel had known that, without having a child herself, she couldn't possibly understand.

"Jan, she's–"

"Get _my_ daughter out _now_, or you are _dead_ to me."

XxXxX


	2. Chapter 2

Whoever Saves One Life

Chapter Two

So Gill had stepped onto the ice, and her feet had been white with the cold. She'd crept to the hole, and then she'd slipped down into the water and disappeared.

There were a few stragglers from the carol service – God, it had seemed so long ago, when it'd been a matter of minutes – cracking the ice around the edges, trying to make it easier for Gill to get Elise out. They were silent as they worked.

Gill had resurfaced, holding Elise. The girl was limp, but a couple of men had dragged her out and carried her into the church, and Rachel had laid Gill's coat over her. Janet had sat with her daughter's head in her lap, and Rachel had talked softly to them both, or to herself; she didn't really know.

Elise had been drowsy, but managed a couple of words to the paramedics when they arrived, and squeezed her mother's hand.

Rachel had gone back outside.

"She's okay," she'd announced to the darkness, "_She's okay_."

There'd been two more paramedics kneeling in the snow outside. One of them had raised his head. "Miss?"

"Rachel. Bailey. I'm a detective, I–" she'd frozen suddenly when she'd noticed, even in the darkness, the angst in his eyes. She'd run across to them.

He'd shaken his head, "I'm sorry."

Gill lay in the snow beside her heels.

Elise was okay, but the boss wasn't.

XxXxX

"Sammy's training to be a police officer," Janet said now.

There'd been a period of time when Gill's son had been grief-stricken, blaming Janet for everything, saying he wished Elise had died in his mother's place.

Then, Rachel presumed, he'd come to realise that life wasn't fair, and that Janet didn't deserve this when she'd always been such a good friend to Gill. Perhaps he also knew that, if it had been him in trouble, Janet would have done everything to save him.

"She died doing something worthwhile."

Janet nodded. Rachel could see in her eyes that she still hated herself.

"I told her not to do it; she still did," Rachel continued slowly, stirring her soup, "She was always like that, wasn't she? Bloody minded – she wasn't going to do anything she didn't want to do. She did it because she wanted to help you, and she didn't die in vain, did she? She saved Elise."

"My last words to her–"

"She understood."

"She said she wasn't going to let me down, and she didn't," Janet said, sloshing soup down her top, but seeming not to notice, "_I_ let _her_ down."

"You didn't."

"I did."

Rachel had been making an origami swan with her napkin, but she unfolded it and leant across to wipe Janet's shirt. She only succeeded in smearing the stain. It looked like Janet had thrown up some kind of half-digested cheddar cheese.

Janet had the grace to smile. "Thanks."

"Someone's got to look after you."

"And it always used to be me," she made speech marks in the air with her fingers, as though she'd seen her daughters do it, "_Mummying_ you."

"Stuff changes."

"So it does."

Sitting back in her chair again, Rachel watched a couple pass by the café. The man was pushing a buggy, and the woman's arm was tucked through his; they seemed a family unit, oblivious to the world around them.

The thing was, Rachel had never had that. Even before her mother had left, there'd been arguments – of course there had, when her father had been pissed ninety nine percent of the time. And what did she have to show for her adulthood? A couple of men had messed her around; no commitment, and definitely no children. Was it time for her to grow up a little?

It seemed a bit selfish to be thinking these things when Gill would never again have to chance to hold her son in her arms, but an entire year of Rachel's life had been wasted away with various degrees of mourning and guilt and confusion, and Gill wouldn't really have wanted that.

"I was forty five a fortnight ago."

"Oh my God," Rachel said, "I forgot."

"There wasn't much to forget, I assure you. Things aren't... they aren't particularly rosy with Adrian at the moment. We barely talk now; it's like we're just... I don't know, hovering, waiting for something bad to happen."

Rachel nodded.

"He cries almost as much as me. I'd never seen him cry much before this, but now it's all the time – I don't really know what's going on. Maybe he feels guilty for not being there with Taisie, or for a woman he'd sometimes met at parties dying for the sake of his daughter, when it should've been him saving her."

"You should talk to him, Jan."

"It's not as easy as that."

Janet had a bit of soup of her face too, and Rachel watched as a tear ran down her cheek and mingled with the orange smudge, so that it looked as though she'd applied foundation in the moonlight. She looked vulnerable.

"Sammy's forgiven you. Why can't you forgive yourself?"

"Look," she pulled back her collar – with shaking fingers – and showed Rachel her necklace, "At the funeral..."

She paused until the shock in Rachel's eyes subsided. Rachel hadn't had the strength to go to say goodbye to Gill after that night; she'd felt like she didn't deserve to throw flowers over the coffin.

Kevin and Andy had gone, and Julie had laid a police hat on the lectern, but all of them had spared her the details. It wasn't that Rachel wanted to wipe Gill from her mind, because she didn't, and they still mentioned her sometimes: Julie, as their new DCI, accepted that Gill would always be close to their hearts. But those memories weren't as painful as this.

"At the funeral, Taisie read a poem. She was still in the wheelchair, and the vicar had to hold the microphone lower down for her. She started crying about halfway through it, but she got to the end, on her own. I think that was the point where she started to heal, started to believe she couldn't ruin the rest of her life over this."

"I wish it was as easy for us."

"Taisie still cries sometimes. I know she has nightmares. But it's better, you know? I think the poem helped her," Janet fingered the necklace again, "It was called Footprints. You might have heard it."

"_When you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you._"

"Yes," she said, very softly, "That's the one."

Rachel reached across to take Janet's hand, and more tears dribbled down her cheek and fell onto their entwined fingers. Rachel realised Janet wasn't the only one crying, too.

"Can we..." Rachel's words somehow got lost amidst the hum of the coffee machine. She wiped her eyes. "Can we go for a walk?"

XxXxX


	3. Epilogue

_Thank you to everyone who's taken the time to read this. I'm kind of embroiled in writing a personal story at the moment, but I'm aiming to tie up some loose ends in some old S&B fanfics like **Scars **and **Fairytales **soon,and after that I want to carry on writing** Every Moment with You.**_

_My guess is that, if you're reading this, you're probably one of *the* fangirls, and I'd just like to take this opportunity to thank you all for being such wonderful friends. Wow, this is a little formal... love you all;)_

Whoever Saves One Life

Epilogue

Rachel found herself thinking, almost amusedly, that Gill would've grumbled about her grave. _Too close to the road_, she'd have said. _Nobody's even cleaned the leaves from it. _It was funny how voices could exist inside your head long after the person had gone.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said, "I've just never been here before."

"I should have rung you earlier. We shouldn't have let it get this bad; and you definitely shouldn't have felt like you weren't worthy of–"

Janet trailed off, and Rachel didn't attempt to fill the silence. There was a teddy bear on the grave, the bow around its neck faded, and a little laminated card stitched to its leg, 'love you forever mum x'.

"Gillian Seraphina Murray. Has a certain, um, ring to it."

"No wonder she preferred Gill, is it?"

"I guess not."

"Rach," Janet sank down onto her knees in the grass, "You do know how much she cared about you, don't you? She might've teased you a bit sometimes, but she would've done anything to help you, and she did. She thought you had the potential to go far, like she had done."

"She could've gone further."

"Yeah. She could've."

Rachel shook her head, "Sorry, I didn't mean that."

"I thought it was just a matter of time until I could move on. I thought, when you were a police officer, you hardened your heart. But it's true, what we tell all those families: there's no time limit on grief."

"That's why Gill still loved Dave, I suppose."

"He had the grace not to show at her funeral."

Rachel smiled, "He always was a bit of a tosser."

They both looked back towards the grave.

_Hamatzil nefesh ahat, ke'ealu hetzil olam ma'leh.  
_

"She didn't have anything on her will about what she wanted for her funeral. I suppose she didn't think it would be..." Janet shook her head again, "I chose it with Julie. We thought it was appropriate."

"What does it mean?"

Janet was quiet for a long time, and Rachel wondered if she hadn't heard, or if she was praying. Rachel began to think about going back to Janet's house and sending her and Adrian upstairs to talk.

About being reunited with the two girls she'd always considered almost daughters to her; about holding them both tight for the first time in a year, and kissing their foreheads and plaiting their hair.

About making cakes together, and eating them in memory of Gill.

"Whoever saves one life," Janet said, eventually, "Saves the world entire."

XxXxX


End file.
